


body shots

by postalcoast



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: & her finding arthur's john-influenced-music & be like ????, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Shots, Drinking Games, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, a bit of arthur/mary but not really, arthur gets laid again love that for him, break ups, for mary & arthur :/, i just wanted to write her idk, is doing tequila shots a drinking game?? idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postalcoast/pseuds/postalcoast
Summary: arthur had spent years thinking the love of his life was mary. he'd spend the rest of his years knowing the true loves of his life were right under his nose the whole time.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	body shots

**Author's Note:**

> the original title for this fic was gonna be "body shots: a one shot" but idk
> 
> plus i dont even think i got this in the right order of how a shot of tequila is supposed to be taken oh my godddddd  
> i looked all this up but all!!! the articles!! sai d different things!!! aaaaaaaa!!!
> 
> pls enjoy :)
> 
> also shoutout to the pals at the morston discord for being excellent & wonderful!!! <3

“I didn’t know you liked _punk bands_ ,” Mary says to Arthur after a date. 

They’re in Arthur’s truck, Mary’s sitting in the passenger's seat or the passenger’s _side - rather,_ in the long bench in the cab of the truck.

Arthur had promised he’d take her out this weekend, somewhere nice to eat. Now, he’s taking her home, he doesn’t really expect to be invited inside, not with her father being home.

He’d told Mary to pick something for them to listen to, and handed her the little booklet of CDs he kept in the side of his passenger’s side door. Nobody used CDs anymore - vinyl records were a thing again, but nobody bought _CDs._ Another step backward.

They’d broken up again about two weeks ago, and now here they are, again. Another round of pretending the same problems don’t exist until they _do_ and Mary’s sending another “I just don’t think this is gonna work out, I’m sorry” text.

They’re not meant for each other, both of them know that - and maybe they should’ve stopped trying a long time ago but there’s still that hope neither of them can shake. Maybe they’re just lonely. Maybe they still love each other but not to the extent that they once did.

Arthur glances over at her, and she’s holding up the Offspring CD he bought a month ago. He glances up at Mary’s face and she’s wearing this amused little smile like she wants to laugh but she isn’t sure how Arthur will take it. She’s not making fun of him, she's just - Arthur never seemed like the punk rock kind of guy it’s fine he _gets it._

“I _don’t_ \- I mean,” Arthur chuckles, jerks up his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug and looks back to the road. “John got me listening to them, he plays some of those songs at the bar and I like a few of ‘em.”

“How is John?” Mary asks, and she puts the CD back in the booklet, flips through a few more pages. “I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“He’s alright,” Arthur finds himself grateful for the subject change, although he’s not sure why. “Still bartends down at Dutch’s bar, he’s dating the other bartender now - Charles.”

“That’s good,” Mary smiles at him, a polite little twitch of her lips, and Arthur glances over at her in time to catch it. She hands him back the CD booklet without picking out anything. “Tell him I said hi, would you?”

Now, they’re back to making small talk like they’re on their first date again. That’s the way it usually goes now, a conversation that isn’t emotionally fueled by arguing or reminiscing in what once was. 

“I will,” Arthur says, and he stuffs the CD booklet back into the side of the driver’s side door.

***

Mary breaks up with him again - this time over a phone call, about a week later. Arthur saw it coming.

He tells her they should just try being friends next time. She agrees, she says they _are_ friends. He doesn’t delete her number like he did the first few times they broke up.

He does remove the heart emoji that he put beside her name the last time he put her number into his phone again, over a year ago when he was still in love with her and he was sure this was the time they’d make it work.

He scrolls up through his contacts until he lands on the J’s and he calls John.

It’s almost 10 pm, a quick glance at the clock on his cable box tells him, and John answers on the third ring.

“Hello?,” John doesn’t sound like he’s just been woken up, so that’s good - although Arthur didn’t really expect him to - hell would probably freeze over if John Marston went to sleep before midnight. 

“Hey, sorry for callin’ so late,” Arthur says. He scoots up towards the edge of the couch like he’s about to stand, maybe start pacing around like he does sometimes when he’s on the phone.

“No, you’re fine,” John assures him, his voice sounds a bit concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Arthur sighs, sits back on the couch running a hand over his face. “Mary and I broke up again.”

Arthur’s lost count of how many times he and John have had this conversation.

“Shit,” John says. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“Eh, don’t be, we’re alright - we’re gonna try being friends I guess, maybe that’s what we should’ve been all along.”

“Friends is good,” John says. Arthur can hear something in the background on the other line that sounds like Charles talking. 

Then John must’ve taken his mouth away from the receiver because he hears John say _“No, it’s just Arthur,”_ but it sounds far away.

“I didn’t catch y’all at a bad time, did I?” Arthur asks, and there’s a bit of static like John’s putting the phone to his ear again.

“No, no,” John assures him again. “We’re just watching TV.”

Charles says something again in the background.

“Charles says hi,” John says, and he sounds like he’s smiling. Something about it makes Arthur smile, too.

“Tell ‘em I said hi, too.”

“He says hey, too,” John says to Charles, then to Arthur: “hey, you wanna come by? We wouldn’t mind seein’ you.”

“You both see me almost every night at the bar,” Arthur says, but it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Beats staying by himself in his apartment.

“Yeah, but we’re all _working -_ we can’t talk then, plus you’re always busy checking IDs all the way across the bar.”

“Someone’s got to,” Arthur chuckles, and he picks himself up off the couch, goes to the chair to grab his coat from the back of it. “Yeah, I’ll stop by.”

***

It’s late, after midnight and the bar’s closed. John and Arthur are outside having a smoke break before they finish restocking all the little toothpick holders and napkin holders. Dutch expects this place to be sparkling before they close up for the night. Every night.

It’s a few weeks later, and Arthur’s heard from Mary about three times. Occasional courtesy calls to see how the other is doing. They’re friends. That’s what friends do.

Arthur had told John the night Mary broke up with him that he won’t have anyone to text goodnight and good morning to anymore.

“Hell, you can text me good morning and goodnight, if you want,” John had said, nudging him on the arm as they sat beside each other on the couch. Charles snorted on the other side of Arthur.

“He practically does anyway,” Charles says, and Arthur turned his head to look at him. Charles meets his gaze. He’s got his arm slung over the back of the couch, practically over Arthur’s shoulders but not really. “You do for the both of us, really.”

“What’d you mean by that?” 

“Oh, yeah - that whole checkup thing,” John says, inadvertently answering Arthur’s question.

“Text me and let me know you made it home safe,” Charles quotes him, still smiling, and his attention goes back to the TV.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Arthur says, a bit defensive. “Didn’t know y’all hated me making sure you guys are _okay_.”

“We don’t hate it,” John tells him. He even leans forward and gives Arthur a pat on the knee. “Charles does the same thing to me all the time, anyway.”

“It’s nice,” Charles agrees, and his arm slips down from over the top of the couch to being fully around Arthur’s shoulders. “It means you care.”

The next day after that, John had texted Arthur good morning with a couple of smiling sunshine emojis around noon. Arthur had texted him goodnight and John had done the same.

Ever since then, they’d kept up the routine.

He’d even started texting Charles goodnight and good morning. Although Charles replied to Arthur’s good mornings almost immediately and not three hours after the fact.

“You coming by tonight?” John asks him, giving an appreciative nod when Arthur lights his cigarette for him. John never seems to have a lighter of his own, it’s become something of a habit - lighting John’s cigarettes. 

“Yeah, I can,” Arthur mumbles, lighting his own cigarette. He takes a puff and turns his head, blowing smoke out towards the street. “Gotta swing by and let Copper out first then I’ll be over.”

The moon sits high in the sky above them, only a few stars scattered out around it. Sky looks real empty tonight.

“Maybe we all could grab a few drinks,” John suggests with a gesture of a hand like he’s just throwing it out there. Then a nonchalant shrug to smooth it over. He takes another drag from his cigarette, blows the smoke out towards the street, and Arthur watches it leave his mouth.

He doesn’t even realize he’s staring.

“You ain’t had enough already?” Arthur jokes. 

The door creaks open behind them, and Arthur glances back to see Charles stepping out of the bar to join them. He pats Arthur on the shoulder before going to stand beside John, who offers him the cigarette he’s currently working on. “Looked like you’d been knocking ‘em back all night from where I was standing.”

“I had a couple of shots, yeah,” John admits. Charles smiles, first at John then at Arthur, and takes a puff off the cigarette and hands it back to John. “I ain’t _drunk_.”

“Not _yet_ anyway,” John says, stubbing out the cigarette against the brick wall after taking the last drag off it. He jerks his head towards the door. “C’mon, let’s finish up.”

***

John can tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue.

Something he’s demonstrated many times before, but feels the need to demonstrate again, tonight. 

“Watch this,” John says, plucking the maraschino cherry out of his drink and Arthur already knows what he’s gonna do. By the amused little smile threatening to form on Charles’s face, Arthur could say he knows what John’s about to do too.

He even has Charles time it with the stopwatch on his phone. 

Fifteen seconds. John can tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue in fifteen seconds.

“Y’know that’s a sign of a good kisser, being able to do that,” John says, setting the knotted up stem on the counter beside his drink. He glances over at Charles in something of an attempt for some confirmation, which Charles replies with a joking shrug of his shoulders.

“I’ve _heard_ that, yeah,” Charles chuckles, and John’s laughing, too, swatting him on the arm.

He leans in and kisses Charles, to prove a point, and it’s quick, chaste - nothing like the heated, passionate kisses that Arthur’s seen them share before when he’s accidentally walked in on them in the back office at the bar.

This time, he allows himself to stare, mostly because he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Elbow up on the countertop, thumbnail between his teeth, completely zoned into the way he can see a flash of Charles’s tongue, or the way John’s hand lingers on the side of Charles’s face.

Arthur glances away when they pull apart, now realizing he _was_ , infact, _watching_ them. He straightens himself in his seat, heat rising to his cheeks, and John turns his attention back towards him.

“If I can do that, imagine all the other things I can do with my tongue,” He hears John say, and the innuendo is clear. For a split second, Arthur fears that maybe John knows Arthur was watching them.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Arthur mumbles, takes a sip of his drink just to occupy himself. He can feel John’s gaze on him, steady and unwavering.

He half expects John to say something like, _“Would you like to?”_ but it never comes. 

***

Over a week later, when they’ve closed up the bar again for the night and the last patron is out the door with a friendly smile, Arthur finds out - more or less.

John, sitting on the counter top of the bar, ignoring the cocktail glasses and beer mugs that need to go in the dishwasher, asks Arthur if he knows how to do a shot of tequila.

Arthur says, “Yeah, I know,” and hands the leftover menus he’s collected from the booths over to Charles. Tequila isn’t really his favorite, but he’s done a few shots of it before - mostly at Dutch’s birthday parties.

“Really?”

“ _Yeah_.”

“Show me then,” John says, already shoving a shot glass filled with gold tequila towards him. Arthur takes it.

“Why? You don’t know _how_?” Arthur rolls his eyes at a feigned attempt at being annoyed by the mere notion. John’s just smirking at him, hands now braced on the edge of the bar. Arthur glances over at Charles, who’s counting the money from the register. 

Every once in a while he’ll glance up at the two of them, wearing a smirk similar to John’s, mouth still moving from where he’s silently counting out.

“Yeah, I just wanna see if you do,” John admits.

Arthur starts to lift the shot glass to his lips and John stops him. Actually tsks at him like he’s a dog about to shit on the carpet.

“That’s not how you do it,” John says, and Arthur lowers the glass, eyeing John with a hint of actual annoyance now.

“There’s a _method_ ,” John reminds him, and takes the shot glass out of his hand. “Here, watch me.”

“I know how to do the shot, I just don’t do -” Arthur insists, but John waves off his words.

“Charles, who’s the _bartender_ around here, huh?” John glances over his shoulder at Charles, who’s stuffing a stack of neat bills into a bank bag, ready to take to the safe in the back office.

“Both of us,” Charles says without looking at him. 

John clearly wanted Charles’s answer to be _him,_ but the truth wins over mere backup on whatever harebrained idea John’s cooked up right now. 

“ _Right_ , so,” John continues on, without missing a beat, and turns his attention back to Arthur. “Here, just watch me. _Do as I do_.”

“Salt,” John has to lean over to the side, stretching his torso out a bit to grab the salt shaker that’s sitting a few feet away so his shirt rides up his side a little bit, showing a slip of skin there. Arthur’s eyes linger there before snapping back up to John’s face when he rights himself.

He pours the salt out on the back of his hand, brings his hand up to his lips, and his tongue darts out, tracing up the line of his hand where the salt is. All in one fluid motion. His eyes on Arthur the whole time. 

Arthur’s mouth kinda goes dry from watching him do that. He’s just standing there, watching John, with his mouth dry and slightly agape like John’s doing something incredible before his very eyes.

Guy’s just licking salt off the back of his hand, and Arthur isn’t sure why that’s so enticing.

Okay, _maybe_ he knows why, but...

“Tequila,” John says, turning and picking up the shot beside him, and slamming it back with only a mild amount of grimacing. 

“Then, the lime,” John blindly gropes around on the counter for the container of limes they were supposed to wrap up and put in the fridge. They’re too far away from him to reach, though, so Charles walks them over to him and he takes one, popping it into his mouth.

Charles plants a hand against the counter, leans against it. Gives John a little fond, amused smile that he can’t see - that only Arthur can see, that says so much. Then he glances at Arthur and he’s smiling at Arthur the same way. 

And maybe that says enough.

Enough for Arthur to return the smile.

“Now, you,” John says, leaning back to throw the spent lime in the trash can. He picks up the salt shaker and offers it to Arthur, but jerks it back when Arthur reaches out for it.

John says, “Let’s make it interesting,” in that way that Arthur’s spent enough time around him to know he’s about to do something devious or maybe a bit impractical.

He licks the palm of his hand, wipes it along the side of his neck, pours out some salt onto that same palm and wipes that along the side of his neck too so it sticks. Some of it falls down into the collar of his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He’s just looking at Arthur, now, head tilted to the side, neck revealed and waiting, like Arthur’s a vampire he’s trying to tempt with the line of his throat.

“I’m not licking salt off your neck, if that’s what you’re wanting.” Arthur says, finally, then glances up at Charles. 

Charles is smirking at him, like this whole thing is just beyond amusing to him. 

“It’s alright,” Charles says when John glances back at him, or as much as he can since he’s practically using his own shoulder as a pillow.

“It’s alright,” John echos his words, turning to look back at Arthur. 

It doesn’t take much convincing, and Arthur will probably beat himself up later for how little convincing it took to lick salt off his best friend’s neck, but he does it.

John’s steadying himself with his hands pressed back against the counter behind him, and Arthur steps forward in between his knees. John arches his neck just a little more when Arthur gets this close, almost like he’s offering his salt-covered neck on a silver platter, and something about it makes Arthur chuckle.

He’s smiling when he lowers his head, and runs his tongue along the line of John’s neck. He hears John inhale through his nose, deep and ragged, and he seems to hold that breath in the pit of his stomach until Arthur pulls away.

Charles is handing him the shot glass, refilled with tequila and Arthur shoots it back.

John gives him the lime, but won’t let Arthur reach out for it and put it in his own mouth. No, _John_ puts the lime in Arthur’s mouth, holds onto it until Arthur bites the juice out of it and throws it in the trashcan along with the other lime.

“Come up here,” John says in a tone Arthur’s never quite heard from him before. “Up on the counter.”

He glances back at Charles, and the two of them hold this look like they’re having a conversation in their heads, before John looks back to Arthur and hops down off the counter.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Making it interestin’, huh?” Arthur chuckles. He’s pulling his shirt over his head without a mere second thought.

“ _Real_ interesting.”

***

Soon, Arthur is laid out on the counter of the bar, hands locked together behind his head, his shirt crumpled and forgotten on one of the barstools. It’s a bit cool in the bar without a shirt on.

Arthur thinks, briefly, about the camera looming overhead, connected straight to the monitor in the back office, connected straight to an app on Dutch’s phone.

If Dutch wanted to, he could go on his phone right now and see what was happening.

John stands over him, Charles on the other side, and John pours out some of the salt onto Arthur’s stomach.

And it feels _weird_. The grainy texture of the salt against his skin, and he makes a sound that has both John and Charles looking down at him.

“You alright?” Charles asks. John’s hand is still hovering over his stomach with the salt shaker, mid-pour.

“Yeah,” Arthur nods. “‘m fine, just - _tickles_...itches, I dunno. I’m good.”

John nods, sitting the salt shaker down and Charles is still looking down at Arthur’s face when John looks at Charles and asks with a wave of his hand, “You wanna do the honors?”

Charles looks at him, then back to Arthur, and shrugs. “Okay.”

Arthur’s stomach twitches when Charles leans down and licks the salt from around his belly button in one go. Arthur’s stuck between trying to keep his stomach still and staring at Charles, then looking up at John, who’s watching Charles.

It still tickles, though, and Arthur would probably laugh if he wasn’t getting turned on by the very notion that they were all doing this right now. 

Watching Charles sweep his tongue around the skin of Arthur’s stomach, watching John watching Charles with something of a glazed look in his eyes - Arthur thinks it’s pretty hot.

Charles stands back up, and John tilts the whole bottle of tequila close over Arthur’s stomach, and pours it out carefully so only a little dribbles out and into his belly button. It overflows a bit, and a stream of the liquid makes its way off to the side of his stomach, and down his torso on the side Charles’s on.

After that, Charles wastes no time.

He starts by licking up the side of Arthur’s stomach, where the strayed tequila stream is, slow and paced out, and then makes his way to Arthur’s navel, lapping up the rest of the liquid there. Arthur’s stomach twitches again under him.

He finds it helps if he just inhales and holds his breath, and Charles pulls away and Arthur lets out the breath.

Then John is sticking a lime wedge in Arthur’s mouth, backwards, and Charles leans down over him. Arthur reaches out, unclasping his hand from his other behind his head, tucks some of the hair falling down over Charles’s shoulder behind his ear and Charles is smiling at him again. Charles, then, leans down further, lets his mouth hover over Arthur’s, and takes the lime from Arthur’s teeth. 

Arthur’s hard now, he knows he is. 

Wonder if Dutch can see that too.

Now, John’s pouring salt out onto Arthur’s stomach again, and he licks it up. Takes his time with it just as Charles had. Arthur can feel every swirl of John’s tongue along the skin of his stomach, over and around his navel.

Then, Charles pours out a dribble of the tequila, and this time there’s multiple streams pooling out around the outside of his navel. One heads off the side of his stomach, like the last one had. The other streams out, gets caught up in the hairs of Arthur’s happy trail just above the waistline of his jeans. Only a few inches away from Arthur’s now full fledged hard on, straining against the material.

There’s no point in hiding it, there’s no way Arthur could if he wanted to.

He kind of wants to, but the way John glances down at it, then back up at Arthur with a knowing smirk and heavy lidded eyes, Arthur gets a whole lot of images in his head. 

He thinks about John just unzipping his pants and jerking him off. He thinks about Charles ducking his head down and blowing him. He thinks about a lot of things.

John sweeps his tongue over Arthur’s stomach again, taking his time again, then he’s moving his hand to Arthur’s knee, all causal like. Arthur had been staring up at the ceiling of the bar, just taking in the feeling of John’s tongue against his skin, but he jerks his head up at the touch of John’s hand. 

Charles is holding John’s hair back, got it wrapped around one fist, and John’s hand travels upward. To Arthur’s thigh, then ducks down to the inside of his thigh. So fucking close to his dick that Arthur draws in a breath that sounds more like a gasp than it does anything, and John’s hand is just lingering there. Ghosting, teasing.

John laps up the remaining tequila in Arthur’s navel and Arthur can’t think. He can’t think about trying to inhale so his stomach doesn’t twitch, he can’t think about the cameras pointed directly at them and how pretty soon Dutch will call and ask why they haven’t turned the alarm system on yet.

Then, John pulls back, and Charles has the lime in his mouth, backwards. John takes it from his teeth, sucks on it, then leans in again and kisses Charles.

And Arthur watches. 

He actually props himself up on his elbows, as if that would somehow get him any closer. 

One of Charles’s hands fists in John’s hair, tugging slightly and John makes this quiet little moan against Charles’s mouth that has Arthur’s cock twitching. Only then does Arthur try to steady his breathing, each breath leaving his body as shakily as it entered.

This kiss is exactly the kind Arthur’s walked in on before, but never stayed around to watch. Heated, and fiery. Now, Arthur kinda wishes he would’ve.

He thinks about John and Charles kissing him like that. He wants John and Charles to kiss him like that.

And when they pull away, John’s looking at him again, and Charles is looking at John looking at Arthur. And John smiles, all pink-mouthed and he’s breathing as hard as Arthur’s breathing. His smile says so many things that Arthur wishes he could decipher if his thoughts weren’t so hazy right now.

Then, as if granting Arthur’s unspoken wish, John leans down and kisses Arthur.

And it’s not soft, or gentle in the ways Arthur’s used to kissing Mary, or the ways Arthur’s used to kissing anybody, really. It’s all tongue and and teeth and the hard press of John’s lips against his. John kisses Arthur like he’s trying to unravel him, if that makes sense - which it doesn’t, Arthur knows that, but it’s the closest analogy he can think of.

John’s the first to break this kiss, pressing his forehead against Arthur’s, breathing in each other’s air.

John smiles at him again. “We could make this even more interestin’, if you want.”

Arthur’s nodding. Automatically. He’s probably never wanted something more. “Alright.”

***

Everything after that plays out as if it’s in slow motion.

Arthur sets the alarm to the bar and Charles and John file out after him and he locks the door. They part ways in the parking lot, Charles and John get into Charles’s truck, Arthur gets in his own. John leans over Charles’s lap and honks the horn at Arthur as a goodbye, despite the fact they’re gonna see each other again in a few minutes. He always does this, he’s always done this.

Arthur takes the ten minute commute home to his apartment, parks his truck in front of his apartment, unlocks his own door, lets Copper out, smokes a cigarette out on the front porch, lets Copper back in.

All routine. Nothing out of the ordinary.

While he’s spending a bit of time with Copper, Hosea calls him. One of the contestants gave this ridiculous answer on Jeopardy or Family Feud or something like that and Hosea had to tell him about it because it made Hosea think about him.

After the phone call, Arthur’s shrugging his jacket back on, texting Charles that he’s on his way, and grabbing his keys from the key holder next to the front door. He makes the fifteen minute drive to John and Charles’s and he listens to the Offspring CD he bought a month ago because it makes him think about John.

Arthur can’t stop thinking about John kissing him earlier. He can’t stop thinking about the noises John made in Charles's mouth. He can’t stop thinking about the way Charles’s tongue felt against his stomach.

_Charles gathers John’s hair away from his face and holds it in one hand, the other traveling back down to hold onto John by the hips. His eyes make their way up to meet Arthur’s, and he smiles, just a quick twitch of the corners of his lips, but it’s different. Because everything’s different, in a way, but for the better._

_Arthur’s sitting back against the headboard of their bed, John’s in between his legs, leaning over his lap and his mouth is on Arthur’s cock. His breath is hot, and he can feel John’s tongue flicking down low over the base and then dragging its way up, and Arthur makes a sound that’s something in between a hiss and a moan._

_Arthur’s got his hands fisted in the sheets because he doesn’t know where else to put them, and one of John’s hands is holding onto Arthur’s thigh. John moves with each one of Charles’s thrusts, each one jostling him forward a bit in a steady rhythm._

Arthur parks his truck next to Charles’s and walks up the stairs to their front porch. The door’s unlocked, they always leave the door unlocked when they know Arthur’s on his way but Arthur still knocks and waits till he hears John’s muffled, “ _It’s open!”_ filter out through the door.

Arthur lets himself in and closes the door behind him. There's a coat hanger next to the door that Arthur always hangs his coat on, John and Charles hardly ever use the thing, leaving their own coats strewn about on the back of chairs just as Arthur does his own at home.

John’s sitting on the couch, feet stretched out over the length of it, half paying attention to the TV and half paying attention to his phone. He’s already out of the clothes he wore to work, only wearing a pair of pajama bottoms with no shirt. 

He glances up from his phone. “We were starting to think you weren’t coming.”

Charles comes in from the hallway, and John scoots his feet back to make room for Charles to sit down. He gives Arthur a warm smile and a “Hey, Arthur,” as he passes him, as he always does, and when he sits down on the couch next to John, John stretches out again, putting his feet in Charles’s lap.

“Hosea called when I was about to leave,” Arthur says, and he just now realizes he’s lingering in front of the doorway.

“What’s he doin’ up this late?” John asks, without looking away from his phone, but his brows furrow a bit.

Arthur walks over and takes a seat beside Charles. “Watchin’ Jeopardy.”

“Oh.” 

Their own TV is playing some Netflix movie. One Arthur automatically recognizes as Back to the Future, but he isn’t sure which one.

“Which one is this?” Arthur asks, settling back into the couch and throwing an arm up over the back of it. 

“First one,” Charles answers. 

“They got Sleepless in Seattle on there, if you wanna watch that,” John says, and Arthur glances over just in time to see John smirking down at his phone. “I know it’s one of your favorites.”

“I liked Tom Hanks, okay-”

“You owned a physical copy of it and it was playing _every time_ I came over for like a year _straight_.”

“Leave ‘im alone, John,” Charles says, in the same tone that reminds Arthur just how in love with him Charles really is. One he uses all the time. A tone that’s always seemed too intimate for Arthur to hear himself.

Until now.

_“Oh, God,” Words are practically tumbling out of John’s mouth at this point, as are the sounds, the sounds that Arthur could spend an eternity listening to. He’s got his head hung low, eyes shut but his mouth just hangs open. Arthur stares up at him, he couldn’t pry his eyes away if he tried to._

_John rocks over him, one hand on Arthur’s shoulder and the other clutching at the headboard for support. His hips move fast, grinding down into Arthur’s thrusts, meeting him blow for blow. Arthur’s got his own hands on the dip of John’s waist, guiding his movements._

_Charles is behind him, Arthur’s legs wrapped around his waist, thrusting into Arthur. Their movements aren’t perfectly synced up, John will roll his hips down a bit faster than the pace Arthur’s hips are moving at, Charles’s pace seems to be set somewhere in between. But, Arthur never expected them to be absolutely perfect at this, but that’s what practice is for._

_Charles leans forward, moving John’s hair off the side of his neck and kisses him there. John’s head tilts back into it, and off to the side, exposing more of the skin for Charles’s mouth to work with._

_“Fuck,” John’s still got his eyes closed and Arthur wonders if Charles can feel John’s words originate against his throat._

Charles’s hand is on Arthur’s leg, and they’re all still on the couch, watching Back to the Future and John laughs when George McFly’s laughing at the Honeymooners. 

Arthur’s been trying not to think about the whole aspect of what’s about to happen between the three of them, but then again, it’s all Arthur has been able to think about. He wants this. He wants this so fucking bad.

John glances over at him, and Arthur glances over at _him_ just in time to catch it and it’s almost like they’re caught up in some petty staring contest. With John staring at him, his thumbnail slipped in between his lips, and Charles’s warm hand on his leg, Arthur could swear he forgot how to blink.

But then he does, and John’s grinning at him. A flash of teeth and his finger lingering in his mouth in a way to suggest he’s not trying to just bite his nails anymore.

_John’s backwards in Charles’s lap, leaning back with his hands fisted in the sheets, and Arthur’s got his mouth around John’s cock._

_Arthur’s got his eyes closed so he can’t really see anything but he can still hear the sounds John’s making. He can hear the whines and pinched out curses, the throaty grunts Charles’s is making as he thrusts up into John._

_Then, Arthur feels John’s hand in his hair, and the shift of his stomach like he’s sitting up a bit, and he hears John say, “Jesus, Arthur, you’re so fucking good at this.”_

_Arthur’s hair is sticking to the back of his neck with sweat, and he’s got a hand wrapped around the base of John’s cock and his mouth pulls up and then lower to meet his hand. His other hand is gripping at John’s thigh, only centimeters away from a hickey he’d made there earlier._

_When Arthur pulls up again, his tongue flicks over the head of John’s cock, and John’s breathing out another, “Oh, God,” and Arthur can’t help but notice the pitch of his voice. Deep and raspy like he’s never heard it before._

_Arthur did that to him. Charles and Arthur made him sound like that._

Arthur follows Charles and John to their bedroom, and when they get to the door Charles is kissing him.

Things go pretty smoothly after that.

“How do you want to do this?” Charles asks. Mumbles the words out against Arthur’s lips. He’s got a hand on the side of Arthur’s face and the other on his arm.

Arthur opens his eyes. “However you guys usually do this.”

“That really clarifies it,” John says from the bed, and when Arthur glances over at him, he sees John’s already taken off his pajama pants.

“You guys just start it off and I’ll-” He trails off, staring down at Charles’s mouth like he wants to kiss him again. He clears his throat and meets Charles’s gaze again. “I’ll join.”

And it’s almost surreal, watching Charles and John. 

Watching John instantly surge up and latch onto Charles mouth with his own when Charles walks over to the bed, watching Charles break the kiss long enough to pull his shirt over his head and then pick right back up like they never broke apart in the first place.

Watching Charles duck his head down to kiss at John’s neck while John tries to take off Charles’s pants with his eyes closed.

But then it feels real when John’s head lolls over to the side and his eyes open and he’s looking at Arthur looking at him and he smiles. And he waves Arthur over and Arthur’s feet practically carry him to the bed.

“I wanna suck your dick,” John tells him, and Arthur would probably think he was talking to Charles if John hadn’t been looking directly at him. 

“Yeah,” the word leaves Arthur in a breath, and he lets John pull him in the rest of the way by the belt loop of his jeans. “Yeah, okay.”

***

“Hey, alright, _The Offspring,_ ” John’s sitting in between Arthur and Charles in Arthur’s truck, flipping through the booklet of CD’s he’d snatched from the driver’s side door. “Didn’t know you had _good_ taste in music, Morgan.”

They’d all just been to see a movie, one that John had snuck his own candy into but ended up buying a box of Sour Patch Kids from the concession stand when Arthur had got their tickets. It was nearly impossible convincing Charles to let Arthur pay for their tickets, but after an agreement of Charles getting the next time, he’d budged a little. Arthur still probably wouldn’t let Charles pay for the tickets next time either.

Maybe the next time after that.

“If I’m listening to anything you listen to then I guess I _don’t_ ,” Arthur says.

Charles snorts from the other side of the cab, which earns him a look from John. 

“Should’ve just brought my own CDs - where’d you get this George Strait CD? _Hosea_?”

“No,” Arthur chuckles. “I bought that a couple of years ago. Pick something already.”

“Offspring it is, then.”


End file.
